Journey to the Past 2
by RoriB
Summary: A series of one- shots about the pasts of some characters that you probably don't think of as having pasts at all.
1. Chapter 1- Miss Hattie

Chapter one-Miss Hattie

Hattie Williams was at her desk filling out forms for Edith Jasmine Reynolds.

Born January 14, 2002. Daughter of the late Brandy N. Reynolds (née Lovett) and Landon J. Reynolds. Blue eyes and blonde hair. Caucasian. Great. Another brat.

It was eleven o'clock at night. An hour and a half after her usual bedtime. Just as she was considering ditching the forms and going to bed, one of the babies started crying. She didn't pay much attention to it. Usually when a baby would start crying, the older roommate would take care of it. She always made sure to room babies with older (well, old-ish) girls. Why should SHE have to deal with them, anyway? But this time, the crying persisted. And when a baby didn't stop crying it meant something. Please...she thought. Please, no...she silently prayed. She walked towards the door and opened it just a crack. Not again.

At an orphanage, it wasn't too uncommon to walk out the front door one morning to find a child there. But not now...not two in the same day. She roughly picked the baby up, making it cry even harder. She muttered some choice words under her breath and went to her desk to see if the baby had anything with her. Most of them had a birth certificate or note from whoever dropped them off. This one turned out to be different. Beneath the bundle of blankets was just a small sticky note that simply said:

Agnes Vanessa Carmen Pazella. That was it? No birthday? Parents names? Note that said why in the world this baby was on her doorstep in the first place?

She went back to the computer and printed out more of the same forms she had just been filling out. Agnes Vanessa Carmen Pazella. Born...she looked to be just born. Born presumably July 25, 2005. Parents: unknown.

Black hair and Brown eyes. Presumably hispanic. Two brats. Even better.

That was Miss Hattie, a squat woman who had no business working with children in any way, shape, or form. She was cruel and had not an ounce of love for anyone, especially the girls. She had had enough with that. Love wasn't real in her life. It never had been. She had grown up with a single mother. This woman hadn't always been single. Mrs. Williams was once a happy young woman with a beautiful four year old daughter and one year old son. She had the perfect husband that decided not to come home from work one day. Mrs. Williams was frantic and about to report him missing when checked her email hoping for something from him. Well, she had definitely gotten something from him. It was the last she would ever get from him. He had run off with some other woman. Jennifer, was it? She recovered from it. Or at least, she thought she did.

Gradually, she started being stricter as a parent. Then "strict" turned into "crazy" and "crazy" turned into "wrong." Not a day went by that Miss Hattie didn't get a new scar, mental or physical. Mostly mental.

When she was nineteen, love finally entered her life again in the form of John McCalla. He wasn't handsome, but to her, he was perfect. He loved her and that was all she wanted. A year and a half later, they were married, but the love he supposedly had for her hadn't lasted that long and he became like her mother. During their fourth month of marriage, he was put in jail for domestic violence and polygamy. As it turned out, she wasn't his only wife. He was like her father, too.

None of the girls ever thought about Miss Hattie having a past, but she most certainly did. And they suffered greatly because of it.


	2. Chapter 2- Vector

_A few weeks ago, I came up with the idea to write this and at the time, it seemed like a pretty good idea until I finished the first chapter and had no idea who to write about next. If you would kindly review and give me suggestions, I would greatly appreciate it._

Three little girls walked slowly through the parking lot of the Glennville Civic Center. This was going to be easy. Everyone was still in the auditorium talking, laughing, and congratulating their little dancers on what a great job they did. These three orphans had no family, so they had gotten dressed fairly quickly and left before anyone else. I got out of my car- an unsuspicious looking white Honda Civic-and crept up behind the blonde who was trudging behind her sisters, making her an easy target. I peeled one of the three strips of duct tape off of my forearm and quickly slapped it over her mouth. She struggled, but her sisters who were already too far ahead to hear her and looked distracted by their thoughts didn't even look up. Then I took one of the three stretches of rope-each about a foot long, and wound it tightly around her wrists that I had forced behind her back. The other two had gotten too far ahead for me to catch on foot, so I opened the trunk, threw the brat inside and went searching for a new parking place closer to where the other two were walking.

I found my spot and got out of the car like any normal person and crept up behind the oldest. The fact that she was carrying her little sister would have made it much harder under any other circumstances, but since no one was around, I didn't even care. I did the same thing to the oldest as I had done to her sister and threw her to the ground. The youngest was running as fast as her chubby, five-year-old legs would take her. It was only a matter of seconds before I caught up to her and put my hand over her mouth, tucked her older sister under my arm, and headed to the car. I threw the older one in the trunk, but hesitated before doing the same with the youngest. A five year old couldn't possibly know how to escape from a trunk...could she? As paranoid as it seemed, I wasn't going to even take the chance, so I tied her up like her sisters, threw her in with them, and drove off.

It was an emotional drive home, even more than I care to admit. I remembered it happening to me when I was eight years old. But I had kidnapped people like this before, what made this time any different?

I remembered going to the mall with my parents one day. We were just there, shopping like everyone else and suddenly they were gone. I was grabbed from behind and the next thing I knew, I was living with a large man named Henry Perkins and my name had been changed from Eric Roteman to Victor Perkins. They had even gotten me a fake birth certificate. I was resentful at first. To my new "dad." Mainly to the people at the mall who didn't do anything.

Eventually I got used to my new life. I figured out soon enough that he had taken me for his wife. She had recently been devastated by the news that she was unable to have children of her own. But with her husband being the owner of the Bank of Evil, they had friends who were more than capable of fixing that problem for her. And they did. She was a kind woman who, as crazy as she was, really seemed to care for me. I hated my father who took extreme measures to ensure that I didn't ever try to run away. Then he would try to be nice to me. He made several attempts at trying to be a father to me. He gave me anything I wanted and trained me to become the world's best supervillian, but never once was he really my dad.

The realization that we were home took my mind off of my memories. I got the girls out of the trunk, and took them to the control center/escape pod/where I kept all my prisoners in that giant glass bubble. I pressed a button on my remote and a door swung open from the top of the spherical cell and a ladder extended from the ceiling. One by one, I took the girls to the top of the ladder, untied them, dropped them into it, and waited anxiously for Gru to come for his girls.


End file.
